


I Fall So Hard Inside the Idea of You

by royal_chandler



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Imported, LiveJournal, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 04:08:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2909531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royal_chandler/pseuds/royal_chandler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s suicidal but Chris knows what he’s doing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Fall So Hard Inside the Idea of You

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published January 29, 2010 and written for [tourdefierce.](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tourdefierce/pseuds/tourdefierce)
> 
> Title is a line from “The Idea of You” by the Dave Matthews Band.

It’s nearly _embarrassing_. Stupidly close to humiliating, how easily Chris folds like a two-bit slut under the harassment of Karl’s hands, his mouth, and the leg wedging him wide against the door.

It’s definitely obscene. Chris whimpers and begs with little shame when Karl leaves filthy promises at his ear, lips dry and corrupt against the shell. He gives a sigh of ‘thank fucking god’ as Karl makes good at the pulse point of Chris’ neck, bites hard at his collarbone before fitting strong hands under the hem of Chris’ white tee. Karl absolutely detests the article of clothing and that’s obvious when he rids of the shirt in two seconds flat, almost taking Chris’ head off along with it.

“Holy shit, Karl, can you be a little more careful? You’re handling delicate merchandise here,” Chris jokes breathlessly, resurfacing with a disheveled head.

Karl’s hand slides down the slope of Chris’ shoulder and lingers over his chest, thumb flicking at a nipple, “That what you want?”

Chris has been undone since the get-go so that low growl just succeeds in turning him into something less than atomic. “Hell no.”

He could add more to that but Chris shuts his brain up as he hastily presses his lips to Karl’s curling ones, kisses the man as if his final breath rests there. Chris only backs off when Karl insists that his own top needs to be rid of, and then he’s back to assaulting as if he’ll never get the chance again.

There’s no air between them as Karl leads to the center of the room and thankfully he doesn’t say anything about Chris stepping all over his toes, crowding like an envelope.

It’s incredibly terrifying, how attached Chris is but Karl fucking _has_ him, has him wrapped around his finger and everything else there is to cling to. Chris knows that Karl knows but they don’t say anything about it because there’s no room for feelings or shit like that in the world they’re locked in and most certainly not here. The cold, impersonal walls are fitted for random fucks, business transactions that deal in sexual favors and the two of them can pretend that they belong while the words remain meaningless.

Words are pretty much all Chris can manage to fake, anything outside of that is shared against his will. It’s a sad fact of life that has Chris walking the tightrope between love and hate.

“C’mere.” Probably hearing the loud thought process and sick of it, Karl pulls him even closer and spins, leaving Chris trapped between the mattress and his burning gaze.

Karl tongues his way past Chris’ lips, swiping over teeth and teasing the roof of his mouth. Chris does his damnedest to ignore how they complement one another, how it’s been second nature since the first time they kissed. Instead he cants his hips, looping one of his legs behind Karl on the downfall and revels in the groan he draws out of the older man.

They kiss with leisure and Chris is lightheaded when he feels Karl lap against his sternum, wondering when Karl had moved down there.

Karl punctuates kisses along the rise and fall of Chris’ ribs, breathes hot near the dip of his waist before unbuckling his belt and stripping Chris of his jeans and underwear.

His shoes and socks come off sometime during the process because when the cold air catches his bare feet, Chris wants to tuck them away. However, a knight in tanned armor, Karl soon makes a naked, gorgeous blanket over him, stokes Chris like a fire.

A stir starts where their erections meet and Chris can’t help but gasp at how good it is. He arches up and tilts his chin to capture Karl’s lips with his. This kiss is more savage, biting and stinging with the flavor of blood, so in-depth that Chris can practically taste Karl’s toothpaste from the morning.

It’s an argument. In moments like these, they volley and steal—not stopping until someone’s lungs are wrung the fuck out.

Karl draws back, flushed and shuddering; it’s one point for Chris.

The playing field is balanced quickly though when Karl takes Chris’ aching cock between tight lips.

Chris inhales sharply at the wet warmth, later hisses a stringy “Fuck.”

Pulling off momentarily and with renewed bravado, Karl winks up at him, “That’s the idea.”

Chris cards his fingers through Karl’s hair and tugs to the side, tilting the other man’s face. He smirks. “Well then, let’s get shit going.”

Karl then proceeds to suck Chris’ cock, compressing and taking so much that Chris wonders if he plans to swallow it whole. “Man, _yes_.”

There’s a collection of curses and encouragements caught in his throat and Chris struggles to let them go one at a time. He makes fists behind Karl’s ears, moans when the sensitive skin of his balls is pulled at. “Ngh, Karl…don’t ever stop.” Chris wants to watch, knows that it’s got to be the fucking hottest sight but there’s the matter of his eyes rolling to the back of his skull. “Oh. _Oh_. Holy shit, Karl. I can’t—I can’t…”

Can’t what? He doesn’t even fucking _know_.

But Karl lets off and grips the curve of Chris’ hip, moves to stroke the underside of his thigh, “Got you, Chris. I’ve got you.” He licks the cap of Chris’ knee.

Damn, Karl and his fucking double meanings but Chris nods, believes in it and hopes that he isn’t deluded to think that there’s an ‘always’ somewhere in there.

A finger swipes at the slick head of Chris’ cock and trails down the pulsing vein before pushing into him slowly. Chris wiggles onto it with no hesitancy, “Shit, shit, shit.”

“You alright, Pine?”

“Perfect—I promise, I swear. Just keep going. Please tell me that you have—”

“Right here.”

It’s blurry but Chris spots the clear bottle in his peripheral. “You know me too fucking well.”

“You don’t hide too much when you’re like this,” It sounds more questioning than matter of fact, confused. There’s a pause before Karl adds, “You are perfect.” Petting at Chris’ quivering stomach and inserting another finger, Karl gives a soft smile that is completely unfair and devastating. “So fucking sexy.”

Chris schools his expression and then fixes Karl with a dare. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere with me.”

Karl’s a great actor but Chris doesn’t miss the twitch at the corner of his eyes, the way his hold on Chris grows possessive. “And what will?”

“You don’t want to know,” Chris admits. “Fucking me blind wouldn’t hurt though.”

“Chris.”

“I know what I’m doing, Karl. Stop trying to analyze me. I get enough of that from everyone else. Just fuck me.”

It’s detrimental to his sanity. Despite that though, Chris welcomes the turbulence that shakes his body as Karl pounds into him mercilessly. His nails dig into sweaty skin and drag angry marks, prompting Karl to take a hold of Chris’ wrists and pin them above his head. Panting, Chris whispers approvingly, “Yeah…like that. Right there.”

Karl snaps his hips, inches Chris closer to the headboard. “Close? F-f-uck, fuck…I need..." His movements begin to stammer along with his words.

Chris reaches for his own cock, strokes it in a fever, “Do it.”

With a few more desperate thrusts and a hoarse grunt, Karl fills Chris and becomes boneless above him.

And it’s that look on Karl’s face. The one that neither of them are supposed to admit to—blissed-out, at peace and _adoring_. That expression is what teeters Chris off the edge, does him in every single time because it’s a truth that can’t be exhausted with excuses.

For a time, they stick together and just be.

Nuzzling his nose in Karl’s neck, Chris is fucking high. He’s orbiting in some other world and unable to settle his heart like he does his breathing. It’s dangerous, a hard fall both inevitable and fatal; but for as long as Karl lets him, Chris will continue to spin through the stars.

It’s suicidal.

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Moment of Truth in Your Lies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2931302) by [royal_chandler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/royal_chandler/pseuds/royal_chandler)




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